Lost on You
by MoLea
Summary: He's far too gone by the time he actually admits to himself what he's feeling. She's so smart, so beautiful, so captivating that his mouth goes dry and he's constantly downing whiskey like its water. He's left half tipsy with an ache in his chest that nothing can seem to quell.


The longer they work together the more he starts to feel for her and the more apparent it becomes that it's not entirely mutual.

Oh, she cares for him. There's no doubting that. The slight panic in her voice any time he's in danger, the expression of relief on her face when the danger has passed and she's ascertained that he's safe. They are partners after all. But while her emotions seem to still be on the side of platonic even when he's in danger, his have greatly skewed on the side of romantic.

He doesn't think he'll ever forget the red hot jealously and anger that flooded his whole body when Henry rolled into town. He doesn't trust him, doesn't like the way he looks at Kate, doesn't like that he knows more about her then he does. He accuses her of letting her emotions cloud her judgement, ignoring the fact that he's doing the exact same thing. She agrees and lets him take the lead but it's a hollow victory because it means that she feels something for this man, feels enough to let it mess with her head. It makes his stomach turn and he doesn't want to linger on why.

She doesn't seem to notice his agitation or the source of it but Henry certainly does. When Henry calls him out on it he doesn't know what to say. He doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of being right and he doesn't want him to know something he has barely begun to figure out himself. And he really doesn't want Kate to find out. He's finally getting her to share small pieces of herself with him and he's afraid that any sudden moves will make her close up and return to the cool, distant Kate she was when they first met. So he lets it go.

What he doesn't let go is the bruise on her face. The anger bubbles up inside him and before he can really think about what he's doing, he's on his horse and riding out to O'Brian. He knows Kate can handle herself. She's proven that time and again but it doesn't stop him from feeling like he let her down. He should've protected her. He doesn't dare linger on the fact that the man could've done far more damage to her then just a punch to the face because the thought alone makes his breath catch in his chest. He knocks the guy out and walks away hoping it's enough to stop the guilt and fear he feels clawing at him. It's not.

It's the same feeling he gets later when Jesse James cuts Kates hand. He should've insisted on staying inside even though they hadn't known that the man in the room was James. He knows that James is so much more dangerous than some cheating pugilist and that he could've killed her right then without any hesitation. Icy fear shoots through his veins and he has to clench his fists to keep himself from touching her to reassure himself that she's whole. He knows without a doubt that she would shy from his touch and he's not sure he'd be handle it in his present state.

He's far too gone by the time he actually admits to himself what he's feeling. She's so smart, so beautiful, so captivating that his mouth goes dry and he's constantly downing whiskey like its water. He's left half tipsy with an ache in his chest that nothing can seem to quell. He's not really sure how to proceed. She's shown no sign that she feels anything more for him then what their situation requires. They're partners and while Will wouldn't give that up for anything, he desperately wants to have all of her. He's pretty sure she hasn't noticed which is both a relief and a source of frustration. He thinks how much easier it would be to not have to hide how he feels; to be able to hold her after a rough case or to have her on his arm while he walked her home. Hell, to be able to touch her at all without her pulling away. His deepest fantasies involve slowly undressing her and kissing each bit of revealed skin before laying her down and making her his. But he skirts around those thoughts as much as possible which he finds effortless during the day. At night, when he's alone, his mind tortures him with dreams of what he wants most. He often finds himself lying awake until the wee hours when he finally succumbs to sleep.

He baits her sometimes. He accuses her of being jealous of other women or acknowledges that he finds her cute while also implying that she was trying to impress him. While he smiles and laughs, his heart is fluttering in his chest hoping that she'll give him some hint that indicates she feels the same way. She never does. The disappointment that comes crashing down every time still makes him feel like he got the wind knocked out of him. He doesn't know why he's still surprised.

He asks out Diana, a girl he had briefly met on a case, in an effort to distract himself. When Kate comes in wearing pants and covered in dirt, he knows he doesn't stand a chance. She sits down across from him and starts telling him about maggots and why studying them is important and all he can think is how beautiful she looks even with her face streaked with dirt. He makes himself stand and he swallows hard before he tells her he has a date. He's never been so relieved to see his brother in his life. The feeling doesn't last long.

He wouldn't say he hated his brother, he was kin after all, but he certainly didn't like him. After it became apparent that his brother was looking to eliminate Kates position in the agency, his dislike deepened to as close to hate as he could allow. Kate was an amazing detective, far better than many male detectives he had met, and he would try his damndest to prevent her from losing what arguably meant the most to her in the world. It wasn't until his indignation and anger began to fade that he realized if Kate lost her job, she would have no reason to stay in Kansas City. She would leave and he would lose her; as his partner and as his possible future. His heart is racing and he can feel the panic rising in his chest. He doesn't know what to do from here. He orders whiskey with the hope that it will stop his hands from shaking and give him the courage to knock on her door and pour out his heart.

It doesn't.


End file.
